


Beauty and the Beast

by Invictusimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beast Dean, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hunters & Hunting, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has encountered monster after monster. He’s watched every paranormal horror movie ever made, and he’s never been scared by them. But this, this is probably enough to make him even more of an insomniac than he already is.<br/>Dean’s legs are curved out in a dog-like shape, hair covering his entire body, more on his head than anything else. His teeth are long, white points dripping with saliva when he bears them.<br/>Dean stands panting, his chest heaving, clothes torn, and he tears at them with long, dirty nails. He sniffs the air, and then he looks directly at Sam even though he’s hidden from ever being seen.<br/>Sam's skin crawls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. Picture of the transmutation circle drawn by me found [here](http://invictus-impala.tumblr.com/post/109654417854/so-i-couldnt-find-a-transmutation-circle-that-i). Thank so much for reading, enjoy :)

The first thing Sam notices is that there is definitely something wrong here. They’re in the middle of nowhere Montana, a big field with waist-high, dry grass that could catch fire any minute in the hot sun beating down on it.

His gun rests in the back of his waistband like usual, there’s really no need for it, but it’s there just in case. They’re looking for a werewolf, but it’s not going to show up in this weather, or in this place, but this is the last place he was seen, the place where the last killing was.

Sam leans his head back and closes his eyes, enjoys the feeling of the sun for a moment, but then it’s gone, and the light that made him see red behind his eyelids is now black.

He opens his eyes, and that’s when he cocks his gun and ducks to shield himself behind the wall of grass.

He stands about Sam’s height a hundred or so feet away in front of a warehouse, hair long and nails longer.

When he turns, Sam almost falls over.

Sam has encountered monster after monster. He’s watched every paranormal horror movie ever made, and he’s never been scared by them. But this, this is probably enough to make him even more of an insomniac than he already is.

Dean’s legs are curved out in a dog-like shape, hair covering his entire body, more on his head than anything else. His teeth are long, white points dripping with saliva when he bears them Sam’s way.

There’s a woman in front of him laughing so loudly Sam can hear it loud and clear from where he’s hiding.

“Hic item muta homine in feram. Hoc est, carmine confringi: a vero amore osculum!” She screams in his face, and he bears his teeth further and roars. It makes the skin on Sam’s arms stand up on end, and he has no choice but to shiver and cower further away. “You’re in for a world of suffering, Dean Winchester, and all because you and your mutt of a brother decided to come here and try to stop me after refusing me help. I lured you right in and as always you fall into every trap just to save Sam. You even took to searching the warehouse after seeing me to save him from this exact fate. What a baby you are, aren’t you? So dependent on a brother that will never love you like you love him. I’ve got news for you, _Dean Winchester_ ,” she screams, spitting his name. “You’re going to die like this. Alone! Betrayed! Unloved! You’ll _never_ be able to break the curse, _never!_ ”

A storm rages around them, and in a wave of wind and dust picked up from the dirt, she’s gone. Dean stands panting, his chest heaving, clothes torn, and he tears at them with long, dirty nails. He sniffs the air, and then he looks directly at Sam even though he’s hidden from ever being seen.

“Don’t come after me, Sam.”

Dean runs so fast Sam blinks and he’s gone.

“Dean! Dean! Come back!” Sam runs after him, but even with his long legs and muscular thighs, he has nothing on Dean’s new appendages.

His hair billows in the wind, and then he’s a speck, and then he’s retreating beyond the horizon.

“Shit. Shit shit shit!” Sam yells, and pulls at his hair. The spot where Dean was standing is covered in blood, but there’s no body besides a few sheep in the back of the warehouse. Sam searches every nook and cranny.

The last thing he does is clean the blood up, he doesn’t need the police on his tail. Under the thick layer of that and dirt is carefully placed bricks dug and buried into the ground. They form the largest circle he’s seen someone form for a ritual like this. It must have taken weeks.

They’re painted in something, he can’t tell what, and when he breaks one of the bricks out, the whole thing stops glowing bright red like it was.

He spends the rest of the night digging the bricks up so he can take a picture of the symbols. He takes a few bricks, packs them into the trunk of the impala left behind. The keys are still sitting on the bench seat, but Sam tries not to stare at them for too long.

Sam takes a few more pictures, but it’s getting dark out, and he doesn’t want that woman coming back for him.

It’s starts to rain, and it breaks Sam out of his shock.

Somehow death seems easier than this. He could deal with Dean dying, but he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to ever find Dean. His brother is good at hiding, and when he doesn’t want to be found he won’t be.

Sam prays and prays that Dean has some little sliver inside of him that wants to be found because along the way he’ll mess up. Sam holds onto that little bit of hope inside of him that he’ll be able to catch the slip.

He shoves his emotions down and focuses on what he needs to do next -- figure out what the hell sort of incantation that woman started.

It takes him four hours to find the right website that directs him to a library outside of Vegas, which he doesn’t have time for.

Finally he finds a book in some half-priced book store down the street from the motel he’s staying in, dated nineteen seventy two.

He finds everything there, and then he heads down to the library to read and use the computers there, his since broken when Dean dropped his bag a month ago, and his phone can't do all the work.

The signs all correspond to what happened, and the entirety of it is a transmutation circle, meant to change Dean from human into . . . wolf. 

He’s never even dealt with anything like this. He’s drawn a devil’s trap here and there to trap someone for a short amount of time, but he’s never done something so complicated, so intricate, so . . . dark. 

The words she said to Dean are included in it, around the outer ring, and Sam studies them meticulously, searches in the library for books on it until he gives up and resorts to the computer. It translates to “this changes the man into the Beast. That is, to break the spell, is the kiss of true love”.

Sam freezes and reads over the translation over and over and over. He gets up to grab a random book off the shelf so he can have some time to _think_ because he can barely breathe.

_”So dependent on a brother that will never love you like you love him.”_

That rings through his ears and it’s the only thing he hears for the next hour. He can feel his heart beating fast, but he can’t hear it. He knows people keep asking him if he needs any help, he’s been staring at the same place on the wall for the past ten minutes, but he can’t break himself out of this shock enough to answer them or acknowledge their worry.

Dean turning into a beast, sure, he can deal with that. He’s dealt with the supernatural all his life, that’s nothing new. Dean’s been turned into countless other non-human things, and Sam’s not surprised about it, not in the slightest.

He's gotten over that long ago. Okay, six hours or so ago, but that's not the point.

If he’s reading everything right, between the lines and above them, too, then he's figured it out. 

He doesn’t know what to think about his brother being _in love with him_.

It seems ridiculous. But then again it all matches. The long side-ways glances, the lingering touches. It makes sense, and Sam mentally beats himself for not noticing.

He looks back on leaving for Stanford, heart in his throat, not being able to say the words.

Sam sighs and shoves that down. He shoves all his feelings down and starts up the GPS tracker to look for Dean’s phone.

It’s currently in Indianapolis, and Sam packs his things ready to get there as soon as he can.

It takes him two days driving from Montana there; no stops, no sleeping, no breaks, no food, nothing. Only one pit stop for gas, and a refill for his gasoline container so he doesn't have to stop again. If Dean’s there, Sam thinks, he has a day to get there tops, so he’s already running late.

He uses his phone to track Dean’s the rest of the way, and he finds it in a bar on the west side of town.

The bricks are falling out of the walls, painted in that same color of red as the bricks. 

Blood. 

The door is on only one hinge, and he’s careful not to break it too badly when it slams open in the wind.

“Watch it, kid, I still need to get that damn thing fixed. Stupid coyote breakin’ in to my bar,” the man grumbles, and Sam catches him by the arm.

“Coyote? Where did it go?”

“Hell if I know. Just came in and ate someone then left. My old buddy Jeff. Good guy, too. Hell of a drinker. He could hold down his shots like no one’s business. Poor coyote's probably drunk off his ass somewhere in New Orleans by now."

“Hey, I just need to know which direction the thing headed in.”

“The beast headed north west, sort of upstate. Good luck findin’ him, he’s violent and hellish that one. I hope he doesn’t come back 'round here.”

Sam grabs Dean’s cell phone out of the trashcan before leaving.

Michigan is cold this time of year. Sam layers on all he can and cranks up the heat, but it barely bites at the frostbite that makes his bones creak.

When he finds another place where Dean has wrecked they tell him Ohio. In Ohio they tell him Pennsylvania. In Pennsylvania they tell him West Virginia, and in West Virginia they tell him Kentucky.

Sam hasn’t slept in days. He hasn’t eaten in that long, too, and Kentucky is no where he wants to be. There’s no evidence, no clues, it’s a dead end.

On his seventh night there he gets a room at the local motel and heads down to the bar the first chance he gets.

He drinks until they’ve cut him off, and then he sneaks some when they’re not looking.

When he wakes he doesn’t remember how he fell asleep, but he’s in someone’s house on a couch, wrapped in blankets.

“Hello?” He croaks.

“Hey, sugar.”

She’s blonde and pretty, and she’s obviously been working all night. She still has her hair and makeup on, and she’s still wearing her bartending uniform.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

“I’m Vinna, and you’re at my apartment. The owner of the bar said I should take you home for the night, you didn’t seem local. What’s your name?”

“John.”

“S’nice to meet you, John. I heard what you were saying to everyone last night, ‘bout your brother, and I know the owner didn’t know much, but no one in this town spills secrets but me, and I’d share them for a price.”

“What price?” He asks groggily, sitting upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He ignores the turn of his stomach.

“There’s this nice little burger joint down the street, and I’d love for you to take me out to dinner. Just a nice salad or burger or whatever, nothing more. I’ll tell you everything then,” she says, and grins at him while pinning the last bits of her hair up into a bun.

“I don’t have any money,” he says regretfully, and her face falls.

“Well, you didn’t tell me that. How ‘bout this, I’ll pay off your bar bill if you’ll pay for dinner.”

He has twenty dollars to his name, but to find Dean?

He’d do anything.

He’d sell more than just a night for dinner with some random girl, that’s for sure.

“Deal.”

That night he pays a few cents to wash his jeans at the cleaners down the road, and then he heads to meet Vinna for dinner.

She’s polite the entire time, wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin and eats slowly with her mouth closed.

“So, darlin’, do you want to know what happened?”

“Please.”

“Well, I was just workin’ my shift, and then this guy comes in, right? Hood, long pants, no shoes, gloves, kinda hairy lookin'. He didn’t show his face at all, and his speech was sorta slurred. Anyway, he asked about the forests 'round here, I have no idea why, and bein’ me I don’t know a lot about 'em, so I told 'im to go talk to my brother, Jimmy, and so he did. He’s startin' to head west towards Oregon.”

“Are you sure? Is that what he said? Did he give a name?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, and . . . gosh, I can’t remember for the life of me what name he gave. Maybe . . . uh . . . Oh! Eric, Eric Bloom he said, and he smiled real big when he said it.”

 _Dean_.

“Thanks.”

“Hey! Aren’t you gonna pay?” She asks when he gets up out of the booth, rushing to exit. He tosses a twenty dollar bill her way and runs to the motel to get his things packed, to get on the road and head to Oregon.

It takes him a week. He makes stops here and there, sleeps in the car and siphons money from credit cards like Dean taught him to when he runs out of it. 

Oregon is foggy in the mornings, and that’s when he rolls into town, three days later than he expected to.

Out here on the coast it’s chilly, but not as much as the east coast, that’s for sure. It’s tolerable here.

But Dean’s not there.

He’s not anywhere in Oregon.

He’s no where to be found.

Sam searches high and low, in every damn city in Oregon, and then he goes to Washington, but even there there’s nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

In California there’s nothing.

He forges a passport and makes it into Canada, but even there, with dense forests as far as the eye can see, there’s no sign of Dean.

He keeps searching. He’ll search the whole world if he has to.

* * *

Three Years Later

* * *

Sam gave up the search last year. He’s skinnier now without someone to look out for him, to feed him. He’s not around people, so no one tells him he should eat, and he never remembers to.

He’s not hungry anymore anyway.

He’s not angry or sad or even upset about Dean.

He doesn’t feel anymore.

Sporadic is one way to describe his living patterns, but he doesn’t really have a home. The impala and him stick together, and that’s really where most of what he does goes down.

He moves from state to state, and he’s not going to kid himself, he still searches sometimes for Dean, but not as actively, and not with as much fervor.

There’ll be an article about coyotes breaking in, or a wolf tearing someone apart, but it’ll be just that.

No Dean.

Yet again, he’s left at a dead end.

He’s met with wall after wall with no doors. None open for him, and it’s hard to yank one open himself without help.

Sam’s not used to being alone, and he’s left isolated with thoughts of what could have been.

He could have been with Dean.

They could have been together, but he’s messed up.

He should have never gone to Oregon way back when.

He should have stayed in the east.

Dean always preferred there, and he always preferred their --

Their house.

Sam both mentally and physically slaps himself.

How could he have been so _stupid_ , so thick-headed and stubborn, too focused on trying to find Dean than looking at the bigger picture?

He knows there aren’t a lot of trees or cover there, and he also knows the house is occupied, but then again, his brother could be there.

He could find him and break the curse.

Sam doesn’t remember what state he’s in, but he starts driving to Kansas.

It takes him a day and a half, again with no breaks just like always.

He stops at a bed-and-breakfast motel, one with good WiFi, and he checks up on the house.

It’s empty and for sale, but he doesn’t have nearly enough money to buy it or enough time to fake credentials.

He’ll just have to whip out one of the old costumes and find a way inside with an excuse only an idiot would believe.

It turns out he doesn’t have to, he just sneaks in through the back at midnight without so much as a skid of shoe. He’s as silent as a mouse, even more so, and he points his gun at whatever might be around the corner as he searches the house.

“I like to come in here and stare at the ceiling,” he hears a voice echo, and he runs up the stairs to find no one there. “I’ve always been quicker than you, Sammy.”

Sam turns, but he’s still alone.

His skin crawls.

“You’ve changed. You smell different. You got a girl?” He sounds hurt.

“No, I don’t. Where are you?”

“Right behind you,” is whispered in his ear. He can feel the breath on the back of his neck, but Dean still doesn’t show himself. “I told you not to follow me, Sammy, you know these sort of things are dangerous.”

“I’m not some kid, Dean.”

“Ah, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I’m tellin’ you, you shouldn’t have come.”

“Why? Show yourself, please. I haven’t seen you in _four years_ , Dean, please give me this.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

There’s a brief pause, and Dean’s voice is nothing more than a whisper when he speaks next.

“I’m a monster.”

“You’re my brother, and you could never be a monster in my book. Show yourself.”

There’s a brush of skin against carpet, and when Sam turns he’s no longer alone.

He pitches himself at Dean, but his brother doesn’t hug back, shrinks away more like.

“What happened to you?”

“I’m a monster, Sam, don’t touch me.”

Sam takes his time to get a good look at Dean. The low light doesn’t help, but he can still see the outline of who used to be related to him.

Dean’s taller, thinner, more muscular. His teeth are long and pointed, mouth bloodied and gruesome. His hair is matted to his skin, and he smells like the sewer threw up on him.

When his eyes meet Sam’s, they glow bright green.

Sam takes a step back.

“See? Even you’re afraid of me.”

“No, I . . . I’m just shocked. Dean, how can I help you?”

“You can’t. There’s no way to break the curse.”

“But what about what the witch said, she said true love can --”

“Do you really believe in that bullshit? There’s no such thing as true love, Sam. Never has been, never will be.”

“But, Dean --”

“I said no.”

“Hey! You two aren’t supposed to be in here, get -- what the hell?” The police officer behind them is short and rounded, they could easily outrun him, but not the guns pointed at their heads. “What the hell are you?” He asks, horror evident in his voice, and Dean grins sadistically.

“The beast.”

“Get out right n --”

A gunshot goes off.

Sam shuts his eyes tight and expects pain to shoot through his system like an old drug to new skin unpierced by a needle, unpleasant and unwelcome, but he doesn’t get it.

He does hear a body drop.

“No no no no no no no no no, Dean, Dean stay with me.”

Sam pulls Dean into his lap and holds him close.

“Sir, you need to lea --”

“Get out!” He roars, and the police officer cringes back. “Oh god, Dean, Dean stay with me.”

The wound is bad. Really bad. Blood oozes from his neck and Sam chokes on a sob.

“Sammy,” he gasps, and Sam pushes his forehead against his brother’s, holds his head in his hands. “Sammy.”

“M’right here. I’m so sorry, so so sorry. Dean, please stay with me, we’ll get you some help, and --”

“I’d rather die than live another day like this, Sam,” he gasps out, and tears trail down both of their cheeks.

“No, Dean, Dean! Come on, stay conscious.” Dean’s eyelids begin to flutter shut, and Sam slaps him hard. “Don’t close your eyes, keep ‘em open, god dammit."

“Can’t, too tired. So tired, Sam, so . . . so tired. Love you, Sam. Love you.”

Sam’s tears cloud his vision, but he can see well enough to plant his lips against Dean’s perfectly on the first try.

Dean kisses back sluggishly.

And then he goes slack.

“Dean? Dean? No, come on, you can’t be dead. Dean, please, please, please don’t leave me," Sam begs, and tries to shake Dean back to life. When it doesn't work he settles for wrapping his arms tight around his brother. "I love you, Dean, I love you.”

Sam clutches onto Dean with all of his strength and holds back the flood of tears about to pour out of him. He doesn't want to ruin Dean’s clothes, as battered as they are, they're still Dean's.

The patch of cloth underneath his face dampens with both tears and blood.

"Sammy?" Dean croaks, and Sam freezes.

He must have been shot, too, he must have died because Dean is living and breathing under him, skin unpunctured and _human_.

“Dean,” Sam breathes, and then they’re kissing again, this time more passionately, and Dean grabs at Sam’s skin with blunt fingernails, and Sam swipes his tongue over flat teeth.

“Never letting you go, Sammy, never leaving you again, promise.”

“So now do you believe in true love?” Sam asks and his healed neck, and Dean laughs breathlessly.

“I had you, didn’t I?”

“You have me now.”

“God, I thought I lost you. I paid off that girl to send you to Oregon, but I followed you. I knew you were smart. I knew you would figure it out, Sammy.”

“I missed you so much, Dean. Where did you go?”

“Where you did. I could smell you wherever you went, but I left you alone this past year so you could sort yourself out. You look like shit.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“I . . . you two need to leave,” the police officer interrupts, and Sam shoots a glare his way.

“Come on, let’s go get us a motel.”

“How about a hotel. You need some well deserved rest.”

“So do you.”

“Searching was nothing. You were a . . . beast for four years.”

“Heh, a lone wolf.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Come on. We have some catching up to do and I think I know just the way how to.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, wiggling his eyebrows, and Sam nods.

“Yeah, Dean, yeah.”

“Can I get a preview?” He asks, but the police officer clears his throat, and they clear out.

They never make it to the hotel, but rather they fog up the impala’s windows with their celebrating.

Sam doesn’t regret one bit, and neither does his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/prompt-info))


End file.
